


Control

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Drama, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-22
Updated: 2004-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-27 10:18:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12079083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Justin feels like his life is getting away from him and is searching for something he can control.  Brian is at a loss as to how to help his boyfriend before it's too late.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Brian opened his eyes, the loft slowly coming into focus around him and started searching for what had woken him up. He didn't know how he knew, but he was sure that some noise or movement within the loft had dragged him out of his dream. 

Slowly, the sound came to him in the bed. It was a low whirring sound, like a motor running at a very low speed or a computer running too loudly. Brian figured Justin was up late working on a project on his computer, but the more he listened to the sound the more he realized it was too loud to be a computer.

Brian slowly got out of bed, again not sure why, but he had a feeling he should be quiet and careful while approaching the main part of the loft. What Brian saw there no longer shocked him, he was only surprised that he hadn't figured it out while he was still laying in bed.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Justin looked up from what he was doing, "what the fuck does it look like I'm doing?"

"It looks like you've lost you're damn mind. Do you know what time it is?"

Justin looked past Brian to the clock, "3:15, you got a date?"

"Yeah, with you in my bed, now get off the fucking treadmill and come to bed."

Justin shook his head, "when you wanted to go ride bikes in the middle of the night I didn't try to stop you." Justin stepped to the sides of the treadmill and took a long drink from his water bottle, "Go back to sleep, Brian, I'll be in a while." Without waiting for an answer Justin went back to walking in place on the treadmill.

Brian watched for a few more seconds before going back to bed. He lay in the semi-darkness listening to the low whir of the motor and Justin's careful steps for another hour before he heard it stop and Justin step off. Brian pretended to be sleeping in preparation for Justin coming to bed, but instead his lover bypassed the bed and went into the bathroom, a few minutes later Brian heard the shower turn on. But what Justin didn't know, and Brian didn't tell him, is that the running of the shower couldn't cover the sounds of Justin throwing up, it never had.

Brian sighed, ran a hand through his tousled hair and wondered how much longer this was going to go on for. And how much longer he could put up with Justin slowly killing himself.

****

It had started 3 months earlier when Justin lost control of his hand while working on a painting. He'd been having Brian sit for him at night, he had to do a portrait as a project for school and had convinced Brian to let him paint him. Justin had used every word of flattery he could find to convince Brian to be his subject, and was glad it had worked. Brian was beautiful, and Justin wanted everyone to see his lover the way he saw him. Calm, gentle, loving ... vulnerable.

The painting was almost finished, they'd been working on it for almost a month. It surprised Justin that Brian was able to sit still for so long, sometimes for 5 hours a night, because sometimes it took Justin that long to get an amount done on the painting that satisfied him. He still had to stop pretty often because of the hand, but he noticed that with every brush stroke, it felt stronger and like he had more control over the movements. It also filled him with warmth when, after dinner, Brian would just sit in the chair and wait for Justin to come to the painting. Every night Justin would ask Brian if he wanted to go out, said he could work without Brian there for a while, but Brian always said no, that the painting would be that much better if Justin was looking at what he was painting while he worked. 

"Are you done yet??" Brian asked for the chair he was seated in, picking at his fingernails.

"You don't have to sit for me tonight if you don't want too." Justin answered, his eyes never leaving the canvas.

"I just want to see the damn painting already!"

Justin smirked, he'd refused to let Brian see the canvas while it was still in progress and every night Brian asked more and more often when he'd be able to see it. 

"Maybe tomorrow night ... I feel like it's almost finished."

"Well hurry the fuck up, or I'll have too--"

"Shit!" Justin cried out, cutting Brian off.

"What happened?" Brian asked, alarmed by the tone of Justin's cry.

"No no no no no ... Shit!" Justin threw his brush onto the ledge at the bottom of the easel and stared at the canvas, tears in his eyes. 

Brian stood up and came around behind Justin, who had covered his eyes with his hands, unable to look at the painting again. Brian sucked in a sharp breath when he saw the canvas. Right through the middle of Brian's face was a large, black streak of paint. Brian could figure out what happened without asking, just by watching the way Justin's right hand was shaking as it covered his face.

"Justin," Brian said softly, his hands reaching for his lovers shoulders.

"Don't!" Justin jerked away from Brian's touch.

"It's okay ... you can fix it." Brian said, even though he wasn't sure that was true.

"Fix it?" Justin cried, "No, I can't fix it! I'd have to start all over ... It'd ruin the structure of your face ... the texture of the entire painting if I painted over it. I could use turpentine to take it off, but then I'd have to paint your face all over again and it'd never be the same, it would never look as good. Fuck!" Justin walked away, cradling his injured hand with his good one and went into the bathroom. 

Brian cleaned up the paint that had splattered on the floor and put the covers on all Justin's little jars of paints. He picked up his lovers brushes and washed them out in the same gentle way he'd seen Justin do it night after night. Then he washed the dishes they'd used at dinner and put them away. He swept the floor in the kitchen, picked up all the stray papers around his computer and straightened his stacks of CD's from work. And Justin still hadn't emerged from the bathroom.

Brian knocked on the door, "did you fall in Sunshine?"

The door opened suddenly, "no." Justin said, before pushing past Brian and climbing into bed.

Brian took off his clothes, leaving them on the floor, and climbed into bed beside Justin. When Brian put his arms around Justin and pulled him close, Justin didn't stop him, just curled himself around Brian and buried his head in Brian's chest. Brian felt Justin relax in his arms, his breathing slow, his muscles loosen. Justin always marveled that with just a simple touch Brian could make him feel so safe, could relax him so totally.

"If I can't manage to control my own hand ... how can I hope to control anything else?" Justin's voice was small and empty.

Brian stroked his lovers hair, glad the long blond locks had grown back, "your hand is the only thing you can't control."

Justin shook his head against Brian's chest but didn't say anything else, so neither did Brian. He waited until he felt Justin's breathing become even before he allowed himself to fall asleep.


	2. Control

"I'm not hungry," Justin pushed away the plate of Thai food Brian had placed in front of him.

"I can hear your stomach from over here, what the fuck are you talking about?"

Justin smiled, "you must be hearing things old man, my stomach isn't making any noise."

"That's funny, since I could swear I just heard you tell your mom on the phone that you had to go because you were starving and hadn't eaten all day, so what the fuck is the problem?"

"Brian! Just let it go, alright? I'm not fucking hungry, so leave me alone!" Justin slammed the cordless phone down on the counter and headed for the corner of the loft where Brian kept his treadmill and stepped on, choosing a medium pace. He grabbed the headphones that Brian left hanging on the handrail and placed them over his ears and pushed the play button on the CD player. The volume was so loud Brian could tell what he was listening to.

Justin walked hard, keeping up the pace easily and placing his feet harder then was needed. There were some days when he almost wished Brian would go back to his 'hands-off-do-what-makes-you-happy' routine and back off. Justin shook his hand as he felt it tense up and then worked it in and out of a fist, whenever he was stressed his hand would fucking act up like this. Justin closed his eyes while he walked, breathing deeply, trying to control his emotions. He felt his hand relax and opened his eyes, letting the loft come back into focus around him. 

Brian wondered when Justin had decided that obsessive amounts of exercise was his best way to fight stress. In all the time Brian had known Justin he'd never once seen the kid exercise, except for the training for the Liberty Ride. Since his hand had ruined the painting Justin had been jogging on the treadmill two or three times a day and using Brian's guest pass at the gym more then Brian was using his membership. He also wasn't eating. Justin had always eaten like horse and suddenly Brian couldn't even tempt him with Thai food on the floor, which had always been a favorite of Justin's.

Justin looked over his shoulder at Brian, who was sitting at the bar in the kitchen eating slowly. He wondered what Brian was thinking about, as he often did. There were times when Brian was as see through as a clean window, but mostly, he hid his thoughts and feelings well. He wondered what Brian saw when he looked at Justin. Did he still see that youthful, beautiful, smart ass kid he had been when they met that first night outside of Babylon? Or did he see what Justin saw when he looked in the mirror? A bitter, jaded, used up young man who couldn't even control his own hand or much else in his life that matter. Justin sighed ... he couldn't control the hand, his relationship with Brian, or the one with his Dad. Justin closed his eyes again as he felt his head start to spin, like he felt his life was doing, just getting away from him without his having anything to do with it. He gripped the handrails of the treadmill and forced himself to open his eyes, forced the room to stop spinning. He felt better once it had, felt like he'd finally made something happen instead of just letting things happening. If he could control more things, maybe he'd have more moments like that. 

Brian watched Justin jog for a few minutes before returning to his dinner. He knew when Justin was ready to talk to him, he would, Brian only hoped it was soon. It had been 3 weeks since the painting incident and Justin was still silent most of the time, except when he was exploding at people in fits of rage. He'd yelled at Michael about the comic, at Debbie about stuff at the diner and mostly at Brian, about everything. It seemed that Brian could do no right where Justin was concerned these days. And for once it wasn't for lack of trying, he'd brought home all Justin's favorites for dinner, they'd stayed in and watched movies together, he even brought some flowers home to the loft one day. Yet Justin was still silent and unreachable and Brian didn't know how to handle a silent, unreachable lover. When Justin had pulled away from him after the bashing at least there had been a reason and a solution, but in this situation Brian couldn't see anything to fix Justin's problem ... whatever that was.

Two hours later when Justin was still jogging at the same pace and the CD had played through a second time, Brian stepped in front of the treadmill so Justin had to see him.

"What?" Justin asked.

Brian pulled the headphones off, "Are you going to stop tonight or just run till morning?"

Justin shrugged, "maybe. I'll stop when I'm ready."

Brian sighed, but decided to try something else. He stepped onto the treadmill behind Justin and pulled the blondes body back against his, "there isn't anything I can do to distract you?" He asked, as they fell into step together.

Justin laughed, a sound that fell on Brian like a gentle breeze, he hadn't heard it in so long.

"I don't know how easy fucking would be on the treadmill."

Brian reached around Justin and pulled the safety key out of it's slot and the treadmill stopped abruptly and they both almost toppled to the floor.

"Then lets not fuck on the treadmill, how about in bed?" Brian kissed down the back of Justin's neck, "or the shower, since you got all sweaty." Brian lifted Justin's shirt from his body and ran his hands down Justin's back, kissing across his shoulders slowly, "come on Sunshine, lets get some real exercise."

Justin felt the cool air of the loft brush across his heated skin and pulled away from Brian, picking his shirt up off the floor and pulling it back on. He didn't want Brian looking at him like that right now. For a second Justin stopped to wonder where that thought had come from, he never minded being undressed in front of Brian ... but for some reason at this moment he only knew that he didn't want Brian looking at his naked skin.

"I'm tired. I'm gonna take a shower and go to bed." Without another word or a look back, Justin went into the bathroom and started the shower.

The next night was the first time Brian woke up to the sound of the treadmill in the middle of the night. He watched Justin from behind, walking very slowly with the treadmill on it's lowest, and quietest speed. Brian could not for the life of him imagine what the fuck the crazy kid was doing on the treadmill at two in the morning.

"Justin?"

The blonde looked over his shoulder, "did I wake you?" He asked, concerned.

"No, the fucking treadmill woke me. What the fuck are you doing?"

Justin shrugged, "I couldn't sleep, thought I'd walk for a while, try to tire myself out some."

Brian gave Justin his best 'are you out of your fucking mind look' and turned back towards the bedroom, "I'm going to sleep, I suggest you do the same. Don't you have class in the morning?"

Justin rolled his shoulders as though he were very tense, "what the fuck does it matter anymore?"

Brian knew where this was headed, an argument about Chris Hobbs and since he didn't want to have that fight at two a.m., he just went back to bed with a pillow over his head and left Justin to work through whatever had him on a treadmill at this hour.


	3. Control

"Holy shit, Sunshine!"

Justin looked up from the table he was washing when he heard Debbie's voice. 

"Welcome back, Debbie!" Justin called out, returning to behind the counter to pour more drinks for the customers.

Debbie grabbed his arm the next time he walked by her, "what the fuck have you been doing to yourself?"

Justin looked puzzled, "what?"

Debbie held him at arms length and scanned his body, "I leave for two weeks and your skin and fuckin' bones! Hasn't that boyfriend of yours been feeding you since I left?"

"Oh sure, blame it on me, of course it's my fault!" Brian called out from his booth. Justin smiled to hear Brian react to the word ‘boyfriend’ without saying something negative. 

"How was your honeymoon Deb?" Justin asked, trying to get her off the subject of his body and weight, two things he didn't want to discuss with anyone.

Debbie pulled Justin over the booth Brian was sitting in with Emmett and Ted and pushed him down, "don't try to change the fucking subject, are you gonna have to come back to live with me so I can make sure you eat right?"

Justin sighed and covered his face with his hands, "I'm fine Debbie, I am eating." He picked up a fry off Brian's plate and popped it in his mouth, "See? Eating just fine." Justin looked down at the table to keep the look of disgust off his face, putting any food in his mouth lately made him want to be sick. 

"Leave the kid alone Debbie, he's a big boy." Brian smiled wickedly and dropped his hand to Justin's crotch, giving him a healthy squeeze.

Justin forced a grin in Brian's direction and leaned over to kiss his boyfriend softly on the mouth. "I have to get back to work." Justin stood up and went into the bathroom. He turned the water in the sink on and splashed his face with cold water. He looked into the mirror and couldn't understand why Debbie thought he was too skinny; he was too fat if anything. He pulled at the extra skin under his chin, disgusted with himself for eating that fry out there, he'd have to run on the treadmill for an extra hour tonight. He lifted his arms and squeezed the flesh that hung down, how stupid could he have been to wear short sleeves to work? He was sure everyone in the diner had been watching the flab on his arms swing all-night and laughing at him. The more Justin looked at himself the more he felt the need to throw up, he lurched toward one of the stalls and emptied what little there was in his stomach out. Afterwards, standing in front of the mirror again, he felt much better. He could control this.

Out in the diner Debbie looked hard at Brian, "what is that kid doing to himself? Or haven't you noticed that he's as thin as a rail?"

"Debbie ... so he lost some weight, what's the big deal? He's been working out a lot, maybe that gift of youth and being able to eat whatever he wants and not gain weight is catching up with him and he's trying to limit the fall out."

"Deb, he looks great now!" Emmett piped up, "You can see all the muscles on his hot little bod!" Brian looked at Emmett, "not that I'm looking at him, he's a happy housewife and I'm not a homo home wrecker."

Debbie pointed sharply at Brian, "You make sure you take care of him."

"I wish you'd all stop worrying about me, I'm fine." They all turned to see Justin standing behind them.

"How long have you been standing there?" Brian asked.

"Long enough," was Justin's only answer as he walked away to pick up an order at the window. 

Long enough was right. He'd heard Emmett's comment about his body, about how hot he was _now_. What had they said about his body when he wasn't listening before?

****

Justin searched around the restaurant for his mother, it was crowded, and he wished she hadn’t wanted to meet for lunch.

“Justin!” He heard her voice call out and his eyes flickered to the left side of the dining room, his mother was half standing, waving at him.

He forced the best smile he could and walked across the crowded room to the table. His mother stood up to hug him before he could sit down. He could feel her hands slid across his back and he broke out in goose bumps and suddenly longed to be as far away from here as he could get. Lately the feeling of anyone touching him caused his skin to crawl and a panic attack rise up, bringing back many of the post-bashing feelings when people got to close to him. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let his mother hug him.

But when she pulled back he saw in her eyes the same shock he saw in everyone else’s faces lately. 

“Are you sleeping enough honey?” She asked as they sat down.

“What?” 

“You’re so pale, and you look exhausted.”

Justin ran a hand over his face, “of course I’m sleeping enough, I was up late last night working on a project.”

Jennifer looked at him in that motherly way that she had that made Justin feel like she knew everything that was going on without him even opening his mouth, “Well, try to get more rest, maybe you should give up that morning shift at the diner.”

“Mother, I’m fine! Can we please talk about something else?”

Jennifer reached across the table and grabbed Justin’s hand, “Sure honey, so how’s-“

The waiter approached the table just then and Justin grabbed his menu, he hadn’t even looked at it. 

When the waiters eyes shifted to him he didn’t look up, “I’ll have the half size Caesar salad, dressing on the side.”

Justin looked up in time to catch the look his mother was giving him, but smiled so brightly she only shook her head slightly and finished asking him about school.

Later that day when Jennifer Taylor was back at work at her desk, she called Kinnetic to speak to Brian, something she rarely did these days. She had accepted him as part of Justin’s life, and therefore her own life, but she was still slightly uncomfortable with him.

“Hello Mrs. Taylor, how can I help you today?” Brian asked, courteous as ever when he picked up the phone.

“Hello Brian, I wanted to talk to you about Justin.”

“What’s the little tyke gotten himself into now?” Brian asked.

“Have you looked at him lately? He’s as pale as a ghost, he’s got horrible dark circles under his eyes and when we had lunch he had a half size Caesar salad, asked for the dressing on the side and then never used it.”

Brian had pretty much brushed it off when people confronted him about Justin being skinner then in the past, but this even to him seemed strange. 

“So he had a bowl of lettuce for lunch?”

Jennifer sighed, “yes, and a glass of water. Brian, you see him much more then I do, is this something he does a lot? Is he sleeping enough?”

Brian ran a hand through his hair, “He seems fine to me, he’s been working out a lot, that’s all. Trying to limit the fall out of his passing youth and being able to eat whatever he wants. I’m sure it’ll pass.” Even to Brian, the line sounded tired. He was suddenly angry with Justin for making him break his own rules and lie to people. Not that Justin had told him anything more then he told anyone else, but if the kid wanted to be left alone, then Brian wasn’t going to make it any easier for people to get to him.

Jennifer paused for a long moment before she spoke again, “Just … make sure he takes care of himself?”

“Of course Mother Taylor, no problem.”


	4. Control

i'm not all that excited about where this story is going, so i'm not sure how much longer its going to last ... but we'll see what happens...

* * *

“Yo, shop keep!” Brian called out as he entered Red Cape Comics. 

Michael looked up with a smile from behind the counter, “Hey Brian, thanks for coming by.”

“What’s the big emergency? Did another gay super hero die?”

Michael shook his head, “no, it’s Justin’s latest set of drawings for Rage.” Michael reached under the counter and produced the storyboards Brian was used to seeing around the loft when they were prepping a new issue. Brian took the offered boards and scanned the pile quickly; he noticed several differences in these drawings from the ones he was used to seeing. JT had gotten thicker around the waist and his face was much fuller then it had ever been. As for the other characters, they were all thinner, more muscled and drawn with more careful emphasis on their beauty.

Brian shrugged, “So?” He asked, his face blank.

“You don’t see anything wrong with those? Nothing different about how JT looks?”

Brian frowned, but shook his head, “I don’t notice anything different Mikey, they look great to me, the lad’s a genius.”

Michael took the boards back and pointed at the first picture of JT, “Justin, who as we’ve all noticed as been losing weight the last couple months, drew JT as having gained weight. While everyone else in the comic is perfect and beautiful. That doesn’t say anything strange to you?” 

“Listen … He ruined a painting a couple months ago, okay? His hand freaked out, and he wrecked it. Since then he’s been acting … a little different, but I don’t think you need to worry about him. Just ask him to redo the drawings, what’s the big deal?”

Michael stuck the boards back beneath the counter, “if you say so, Brian.” 

“I say so.” Brian said, and walked out of the store. He wondered how much longer this was going to go on and decided that he needed to talk to Justin. Tonight.

****

The first thing Justin noticed when he stepped off the elevator was the smell. There were cooking smells coming from inside the loft. Justin was shocked, Brian never cooked. His idea of cooking was reheating last nights left over. If it hadn’t been for Justin Brian would never eat anything that didn’t come out of a take-out container.

When Justin slid the door open he heard soft music playing and there were candles lit on the table in the living room.

“I thought we’d have a picnic on the floor,” Brian explained, kissing Justin on the lips and taking his bag.

Justin raised an eyebrow, “who are you and what have you done with Brian?”

“What? I’m not a loud to do something nice for you?” Brian put his arm around Justin’s shoulders and led him to the living room.

“It’s just not your style is all, what’s the catch?” Justin asked as they sat down on the floor, their knee’s touching.

“No catch,” Brian answered.

“Did you go broke again?” Justin asked, peering into the bowls.

“Don’t even joke about that!”

Justin smiled, “did you cook?”

Brian nodded, gesturing at the bowls, “jambalaya, like the first time you cooked for me.”

Justin smiled, “I remember that night. That was the night you brought Mr. Hotlanta home.”

Brian grimaced; he hadn’t remembered that part, “yeah well, it was better the second day anyway.

Justin smiled at his lover to show there were no hard feelings.

They ate in silence, but Brian kept an eye on Justin. He was starting to see the issue very clearly; the details that he’d been watering down for everyone else were making themselves crystal clear. Justin was just playing with his food; every so often he’d raise the fork to his lips holding a few grains of rice. Brian also noticed the look that passed over Justin’s face every time he had food in his mouth.

“Is my cooking that bad?” Brian asked with a smile.

Justin looked up, “what? No, it’s good. I’m just not very hungry. I didn’t know you had this planned, I pigged out with Daphne.”

Brian put his bowl down, “We need to talk, Sunshine.”

Justin looked so tortured that Brian almost regretted the words, “Please Brian … don’t do this.”

Brian took Justin’s hands in his, “What you’re doing to yourself isn’t helping anything. You think starving yourself is going to fix your hand or put the painting back the way it was? You’re only hurting yourself, Justin … and me.”

Tears sparkled in Justin’s eyes, “Brian please, I’m begging you, just leave it alone, okay? I have this under control?”

Brian shook his head, “you don’t Sunshine, you don’t. You know I’m all for exercising and wanting to look good, but there is such a thing as going to far. You don’t eat, you barely sleep and you didn’t think Michael would notice that JT has suddenly put on 20 pounds? What was with that anyway, is that how you see yourself? If it is you should try a different mirror, because that’s not how you look. You’re making yourself sick, Justin, and your scaring the shit out of everyone, including me.”

A few tears escaped Justin’s eyes and he squeezed Brian’s hands, “I’m okay, Brian. I know what I’m doing … I need this.”

“What is ‘this’?”

“This control, Brian. I can’t control my hand or my emotions … I can’t say anything about our relationship because I’m so fucking scared you’ll kick me out. I can’t control my nightmares or the fear I feel just walking down the fucking street alone,” Justin paused and took a deep breath, “but I can control this. I’m fine, I promise, I know what I’m doing.” Justin leaned forward and kissed a stunned Brian on the mouth. A sob left his body as he pressed his lips to Brian’s. He cupped the older mans face in his hands, “I love you for worrying about me, you know that right? But I’m okay Brian, no worries.”

When Justin stood up and stripped off his shirt Brian almost let his own tears fall. He could clearly see every bump of Justin’s spine pressing against his skin. When Justin pulled his pants down, half turning to smile at Brian, his hip bones could be seen as well, all sharp angles and points, not the soft comfort that Brian was used to.

Justin lay down on the bed, clad in his underwear, waiting for Brian to follow him.

Brian walked down the bedroom and stepped onto the bed, “Justin I’m not done talking--” Justin reached up for Brian’s hands and pulled his lover down into a kiss.

Justin pulled back from the kiss, his hands on the back of Brian’s neck, “make love to me Brian. Now … please.”

Brian shook his head, “Justin we can’t just—“

Justin cut him off with another kiss, “I promise Brian that we’ll talk in the morning. I need to feel you right Brian, please.”

Brian stared down at the boy under him. He’d never heard Justin talk like this, never once had Justin used the words make love when requesting sex. More then the words, it was the blonde’s tone. He sounded scared as if he thought Brian was going to disappear.

Brian was brought out of his thoughts when Justin started stroking the back of his neck. Brian brushed Justin’s hair off his forehead, leaned down to kiss him, and complied with his boy’s request.


End file.
